


Traveling Airline Blues

by Powerfulweak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airports, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Business Trip, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, F/M, Facials, Fear of Flying, Happy Ending, M/M, Mention Sam/Jess, Miscommunication, Phone Sex, Prescription Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Suspicions of Infidelity, Switching, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, hook ups, unauthorized prescription drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: Dean and Castiel both spend a lot of time in airports, thanks to their jobs. After one chance encounter leads to another, a connection forms between them that is more than either man bargained for. Cas and Dean soon discover, though, that even the smoothest flights must face some turbulence.





	Traveling Airline Blues

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Written as part of the [Destiel Reverse Bang](http://destielrb.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Art by [Wondering_Why_i](http://wondering-why-i.livejournal.com/)
> 
> [Art Master Post](http://wondering-why-i.livejournal.com/69569.html)
> 
> Huge shout out to [Whataboutthefish](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta reader. Thank you so much, Kelly!

 

 

 

Dean stares out the large pane window overlooking the tarmac. In the distance, the Washington Monument towers above a mass of trees, the setting sun casting a warm, pink glow and lighting up the pale stone. Dean makes a mental note to extend his stay in DC next time to actually _see_ the sights up close, not just from across the river. The less time he has to spend in the airport the better.

When he’d been promoted to lead trainer at Sandover Bridge and Iron, his supervisor had been quick to highlight the flexible hours and significant bump in pay. He’d forgot to mention the near-constant travel.

“Lead trainer” meant hosting modules for all the employees, all across the country, from Sacramento to Norfolk, and that meant flying. Dean drove as much as he could, but the Impala was getting up there in years and sometimes the quick turnaround between trainings meant he had no choice but to go from one city to the next. Which meant more time in the air aboard the Flying Cans of Death.

Dean reaches into his jacket pocket, fingering the small blue pill for about the hundredth time. He doesn’t want to take the Valium. One of the other trainers had given him one a couple days ago, after Dean complained about his issues with flying. Dean wasn’t entirely comfortable taking prescription drugs that weren’t his, but he’d known Aaron for a couple years and the guy seemed like he had a modicum of his shit together.

_It’s just a 5mg Valium, right?_

Dean sighs and drops the pill back into his pocket, sinking down deeper into the uncomfortable terminal chair. He doesn’t know what his issue with the pill is. Maybe it’s that it feels like an admission, like this fear of flying isn’t just mind over matter. Everyone always tells him that flying is _soooo_ much safer than driving, and yet every time they start to taxi away from the gate, Dean can’t control the hummingbird beat of his heart.

“You look tense.” Dean jolts at the sudden interruption of his thoughts. He looks up to see the man sitting a few chairs down from him, giving him a considering glance. He looks tired and travel-worn, probably in the same way Dean himself does, but his blue eyes are warm and his smile is easy.

“I’m sorry?” Dean clears his throat and sits up to address the man.

“I said you look tense,” he repeats, tilting his head to the side. Dean frowns.

“Yeah. A bit,” he replies, trying to press back his annoyance at the intrusive statement. He reminds himself that the guy is just trying to make conversation and some people (irritating people) like to chat with fellow passengers.

“Nervous flyer?” the guy continues. Dean opens his mouth to protest, then closes it and nods. “Yeah, you have that look about you. Don’t fly too much, huh?”

“Actually, I fly all the time,” Dean says. “This is the sixth airport I’ve been in this week. And that’s below average.”

“And you’re still nervous?” The guy raises an eyebrow. Dean holds out his hands weakly.

“I just… don’t like it.”

“You know it’s safer than-”

“If you say driving, I might punch you,” Dean says, but there’s a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. The guy blinks awkwardly. For a second, Dean thinks he may have really offended him, but the guy just lets out a low laugh instead, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Ok, ok, you’ve heard that before.”

“I’ve heard all of them before.” A genuine smile stretches across Dean’s face this time. “And if you start citing crash statistics-” The guy holds up a hand to stop him.

“I get it, I get it,” he says. “I’ll shut up. If you don’t mind me asking, why so many airports this week?”

“Work.” Dean leans back into his chair, letting his head fall back as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Fun.”

“Not really,” Dean admits. “But it’s good pay and I make my own schedule pretty much. Life could be worse.” The guy looks off and nods and Dean takes the opportunity to really take in his appearance. He’s well dressed, if a little rumpled. His dark hair falls across his forehead and Dean’s not sure if he styled it to be tousled or maybe just woke up like that. The guy turns his head and their eyes meet for a moment; clear blue eyes and a slightly crooked grin meeting Dean’s own.

He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a flutter of butterflies in his stomach over it.

“I hear that,” the guy says. He reaches over, extending a hand. “I’m Castiel, by the way.”

“Dean,” Dean replies, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Castiel’s grasp is strong but not crushing; a well-used handshake. Dean notices the smoothness and warmth of his palm as well and his stomach twists at the contact.

“So, you flying for work too?” Dean asks. “Or… vacation?”

“No, work. Same as you,” he admits. “I’m headed to New York to meet a client.”

“Client?”

“I’m a booking agent.” Castiel says. Dean must look confused because he continues. “I represent musicians, bands, various artists. I fly pretty frequently, as well.” Dean relaxes in his chair as he finds himself drawn into the conversation. Castiel is easy to talk to, open and friendly. Dean almost wishes he was heading to New York, or that Castiel was flying to Tampa. He’s strangely sad that this has to end so soon.

“Attention passengers, this is a pre-boarding announcement for American Airlines flight 4563 to Tampa. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time…” The flight attendant announces over the loudspeaker.

“That’s me,” Dean says, rising to his feet. Castiel gives him a sad smile, and it touches Dean that he looks like he’s as resistent to end their conversation as himself. Dean collects his carry-ons and checks his ticket.

“It was very nice meeting you, Dean.”

“Same,” Dean says honestly.

“Hey, um, can I give you some advice?” Dean’s expression draws down. “For the flying… thing?”

“Uh, sure.” Dean says, although he can already feel a layer of doubt settling over him.

“When you start to feel anxious,” he looks Dean in the eye. “Take a deep breath, grip the hand rests.” He pantomimes in the air in front of him. “Tense every muscle in your arms, legs, abdomen, hold it for ten seconds, and then release as you slowly exhale. Then repeat until the seatbelt light turns off.”

“And that works?” Dean asks, giving Castiel an uncertain look.

“It’s helps,” He offers a small shrug. “I’ve always relied on it.” Dean doesn’t know how much stock he puts in the method, but he nods.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Cas?”

“Uh, Castiel,” Dean corrects. “Sorry.”

“No, no, Cas is fine,” he says with a light chuckle. “It was nice meeting you Dean. Have a good flight, ok?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean says, appreciating the warmth of Castiel palm once more as they shake hands goodbye.

“... We are now boarding group 3…” Comes over the speakers. Dean offers an awkward wave as he shoulders his briefcase and heads toward the gate.

The flight attendant scans his e-ticket and wishes him a happy flight. Dean manages to hold back his eyeroll until he’s on the jet bridge, his rolling case rumbling behind him. He finds his seat, saying a silent prayer of thank you that his office remembered to book him on the aisle.

Dean tenses as he feels the plane shift beneath him and start to pull away from the gate. His heart picks up rhythm and a fine layer of sweat breaks across his forehead. Dean feels his breath coming shallow and quick when Castiel’s advice pops into his head. He swallows hard, trying to collect his bearings.

“Might as well,” he mutters to himself. The man next to him is already snuggled up to the window and snoring softly, So Dean feels no regret for hogging the second armrest.

As Castiel had directed, Dean takes a deep breath before clenching the muscles of his arms, legs and torso, his hands digging into the armrest. After a few seconds he slowly releases the breath and relaxes before doing it again.  

Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax.

Over and over, Dean repeats the action until a soft “bing” and the pilot’s low monotone over the intercom break his concentration. He looks up to see the “fasten seatbelt” sign is off.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dean thinks to himself with a small smile.

He never even touched the valium.

 

* * *

 

Dean is ready to kill someone.

He sprints the terminal of Atlanta-Hatfield, praying to whatever deity is listening that he makes his flight to Indianapolis. A tarmac delay in Baltimore had turned his two hour layover into a matter of minutes. The fact that he had to wait for that damn shuttle to get him from Concourse A to Concourse D didn’t help either.

Dean spots D6, his relief immediately soured as a Delta employee shuts the gate door.

“No!” He shouts, picking up speed despite the weight of his luggage. “Please, no.” The employee lifts her head, her brow furrowing in concern.

“Sir?”

“Please,” Dean begs, out of breath and practically flopping onto the ticket counter. “Please I need to be on this flight. I have a meeting-” Dean starts to reach for his phone to open his ticket app.

“Sir, I apologize, but we have finished boarding.” she says, her expression full of sympathy.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Dean insists. “I have to be in Denver at 9 am. This is vital. I can’t miss this.” Dean had promised Sam that he would be there. As many family events as he misses, being at Henry’s party is imperative.

“Can I help you, sir?” A second, older employee steps behind the service counter, addressing Dean. She’s short and heavyset and has a no-nonsense air about her that could send lesser men cowering. Dean’s eyes land on her name badge, “Missouri” written in block letters.

“Uh, hi.” Dean clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I need to get on that flight.” Dean tries to offer a friendly smile, but her expression doesn’t change.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we are not authorized to open the door once we’ve finished boarding.”

“But you’re not finished boarding,” Dean says. “I’m still here.” He points to himself with two hands. “My flight got delayed, I tried to get here as fast as I could.”

“I know, sir.” A flicker of tenderness crosses her face. “I’m sorry. These things happen.”

“My-my bags-”

“If your bags are on that flight, you will meet them there.” Missouri turns her attention to her computer. “I can book you another flight.”

“No. No!” Dean can hear the slight squeak in his voice, but can’t seem to stop it. “The plane is right there! It hasn’t even left. I… I just need to get on it, you don’t understand.” Dean clenches his hands in his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. Missouri’s eyes flick to the left and out of the corner of his vision, Dean spots a security staff member take a single step in his direction.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep. An airport is not the place to have a freakout, not unless he wants to have a sleepover with the TSA.

“Sorry,” Dean murmurs quietly. “What is the earliest flight you can book me on?” Missouri exhales through her nose heavily and nods. She doesn’t look terribly bothered by the outburst; she probably has to deal with this or far worse on a daily basis.  She turns her attention back to her computer and hits a few more keys.

“Let’s see… I have a 12:45 am to DEN,.” she says, looking up at Dean expectantly. “That work?” Dean’s shoulders sink. He hates red-eye flights. He gives a reluctant nod.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good. Thank you.” Missouri gives him a motherly smile and Dean can’t help returning it.  She processes him a new ticket and Dean thanks her as he drags his luggage out of the gate.

He calls Sam to let him know the situation and to assure him that he should be there even before they sing the birthday song. Sam insists that Dean didn’t have to do all this, but it’s clear he appreciates the effort. He and Jess had been planning Henry’s first birthday for weeks; the party was as much for them celebrating their first year of parenthood than it was for Henry. Dean hangs up and checks the time. 8:55. He has hours before boarding.

With a sigh, Dean takes hold of his luggage and rolls it toward the nearest bar to grab some dinner.

 

* * *

 

One burger and three drinks later, Dean’s mood is only slightly better. He’s sat at the bar, nursing his shock top beer and checking his work email as a rerun of “The Big Bang Theory” plays on the TV above him. He still has almost two hours left and the restlessness in his bones is hard to ignore. If he were at home, he might head down to the nearby dive bar and see if there was someone worth taking home (or at least pulling into the backseat of the Impala for a little while). He takes a quick glance around the airport bar; none of his fellow travelers, male or female, look up for even conversation, much less a hook up.  

Dean is ready to open up his Tindr app, when a husky laugh catches his attention. The sound is vaguely familiar, and Dean cranes his neck over the crowd to see the source. At the end of the bar sits a man with dark hair and and a wrinkled trench coat, his eyes glued to the TV show on the screen in front of him as he sips a pint of Guinness.

Dean knows this guy, he’s sure of it, but he doesn’t know how. Grabbing his glass and picking up his case he heads to the end of the bar, taking a free stool kitty-corner to the man in hopes of getting a better look.

Up close, the guy is far more attractive than Dean first noticed. His smile is soft and genuine and when he laughs, his pale eyes crinkle at the corners. He looks rode hard and put away wet, with the shadow of bags beneath his eyes and his tie pulled loose at his neck. As he starts to take another sip of his beer, his gaze meets Dean’s.

“Can I help you?” he asks, more curious than suspicious.

“Uh, sorry,” Dean says, with a slight headshake. “Do you…. Do you work for Sandover?” The man smiles apologetically and shakes his head.

“Sorry, no,” he says.

“A rival?” the man shakes his head again.

“Nope.”

“I don’t mean to bother you,” Dean says, “You just look really familiar and I can’t place from where… We didn’t go to school together, did we?”

“Did you go to school in Illinois?” the man pulls his pint glass away from his mouth and Dean finds his attention caught by the tan foam mustache across his upper lip.

“Uh, no,” Dean finally answers. “Kansas and Colorado, mostly.” The man considers Dean, narrowing his eyes. His teeth catch the edge of his lip as he thinks.

“You travel a lot, don’t you?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean says, sitting up a little straighter. The man nods slowly, tongue pressing into his cheek.

“Wait, I remember you!” he says, face suddenly lighting up. “You’re a nervous flyer, right?” Dean’s face warms, but he gives a small nod. “I showed you how to do some relaxation exercises when the plane was taking off.” Dean’s eyes go wide and the memory comes rushing back in full force.

“Yeah, yeah.. That was you.” Dean searches his memory for a name. “Cas… Castiel?”

“Yeah,” Castiel replies with a pleased smile. “And you’re... “ He opens his mouth and then shuts it with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. Dan?”

“Dean.”

“Dean. I was close,” Castiel offers out his hand and Dean shakes it. His palm is cold from his pint glass but as smooth as Dean remembers.

“So did you try them?” Castiel asks, pantomiming like he’s gripping the seat. “The exercises?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re great,” Dean replies. “I do them all the time now.”

“And they work for you?”

“Sure do.” Dean meets Castiel’s pleased grin with his own.

“Good,” Castiel nods. “Real good.” They chat for a couple minutes, discussing recent travel and Dean’s latest drama with the airline.

“So, are you waiting on your red-eye as well?” he asks. Castiel shakes his head.

“No, actually,” he says, fiddling with the coaster beneath his class. “I was supposed to fly to Orlando, but a hurricane has grounded all flights, so…” He holds up a hand, indicating the bar.

“Oh,” Dean says. “Sorry, man.” Castiel shrugs.

“What can you do?” he says. “I probably should grab a cab and see if any nearby hotels have a room.” Castiel drains the remainder of his beer, his adam’s apple bobbing rhythmically as he does. As he sets down the glass, his eyes drift to Dean’s. They’re slightly unfocused either from the alcohol, exhaustion or both.

“Seems like a solid plan.” Dean says. A filthy idea suddenly surfaces in his brain. “Or, you know… you and me could find some place a little less crowded and kill a little time.” The words spill from Dean’s mouth before he can stop them and he thanks God that the noise in the bar is enough that no one hears him.

Castiel certainly hears him, though. His entire frame tenses and he looks at Dean, brows drawn in a soft V. For a terrible moment, panic surges through Dean and he’s sure Castiel is about to scream at him or sneer in disgust. Dean lifts his hand, readying himself to grab his bags and haul ass down the concourse, when Castiel clears his throat.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low. giving Dean a pointed look. His expression is unchanged, save for the way his pupils seem to swallow the blue of his eyes.  

“Yeah,” Dean answers with an assured nod. It’s by the grace of God he can control the excited shake in his voice. He always loves this moment, before the first touch or first kiss, when there is nothing but anticipation.

The build up is almost as good as actually getting off. _Almost_.

Castiel runs his tongue over his bottom lip and gives a terse nod. He stands from his stool, collecting his own bag and pulling out his wallet to leave a ten on the bar.

“There's a men's room by gate D16.” Castiel's voice is pitched low enough so only Dean can hear him. “Wait five minutes and then follow me.” Dean can only give a subtle nod in reply as he watches Castiel walk out of the bar area, pulling his rolling case behind him. Dean turns back to the bar, nearly knocking over his own glass as he reaches to finish it.

Dean tries to appear aloof, browsing through his phone, but he watches the time at the top of the screen like a hawk. He signals for the bartender, closing out his tab and exiting the bar as soon as his clock hits five minutes.

Dean walks at a fast clip, glad for the lack of other passengers on the concourse. He spots D16 from 200 feet away and can feel his cock already starting to swell in excitement.

He steps into the empty bathroom. Castiel leans against the row of sinks, lifting his head to look at Dean and tipping it to the side, indicating the large stall at the end of the row.

A part of Dean wants to protest using the handicap stall since neither of them need it, but the bathroom is empty and they’re about to do something far more illegal. He quickly shakes away the thought, following Castiel into the stall.

There's no preamble. Castiel pushes Dean up against the door, mouth latching onto his. Dean grunts and blindly reaches behind his back for the lock, securing the door even as Castiel’s tongue swipes past his lips. There is a ferocity to his kiss that both surprises and titillates Dean. Castiel’s hands roam over his jaw, pulling him in closer and kissing him deeper. He wedges a leg between Dean’s and the hard outline of his shaft against Dean’s thigh causes him to groan.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes out against his lips as he gasps for air.

“Tell me what you want.” Castiel’s voice is a low growl that runs right down Dean’s spine and pools in his groin.

“You. Anything,” Dean murmurs, kissing up Castiel’s neck and mouthing  along the bolt of his jaw. “Do anything you want.” A twinge of anxiety sparks in the back of Dean’s brain as he realizes what _exactly_ he just told Castiel he could do. “I.. I mean-”

Castiel pulls back his eyes meeting Dean’s, reading something in them and clearly getting the message. “I get it,” he says with a soft smile “Hand stuff ok? Mouth?” Dean gives a quick nod and  Castiel leans forward, planting a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips. He sinks into the feeling of Castiel’s mouth and the bitter chocolate taste of the guinness on his tongue. The kiss softens, Castiel’s hands moving up and down Dean’s chest until they come to rest at the top of his pants. He pulls back, dark eyes seeking permission. Dean flashes a sly grin and gives his hips a little thrust and Castiel immediately goes to work undoing his pants.

Dean lets out a small groan as Castiel wraps a hand around his cock and pulls him out of his boxer briefs. He catches Dean’s mouth with his own once more, kissing him hungrily. His grasp is firm as he works his fist over Dean’s cock, thumb swiping over the head and smearing precome down it.

“Cas… oh God,” Dean sighs. He reaches for the buttons on Castiel’s jeans, releasing his cock as well.

“That’s it, Dean,” Castiel sighs, breath hot and damp against Dean’s ear. “Touch me.” Dean moans and Castiel pulls into another kiss, his hand stroking up and down Castiel’s shaft.

Castiel moves an arm over Dean’s head and leans against the door behind him, giving himself more access to Dean’s body. He presses closer and adjusts the movement of his hand over Dean’s cock so they are stroking in unison. Castiel’s teeth catch the edge of Dean’s lip, causing Dean to let out a high-pitched sigh.

“You like that?” Cas asks, smiling against Dean’s mouth before doing it again. His lips travel down over Dean’s jaw and down his neck. As soon as he sucks on the soft skin of his throat, Dean’s hand flies up, burrowing into the thick mass of Cas’ hair.

“Don’t stop, Oh fuck, don’t stop, so good,” Dean babbles, his own hand picking up its pace.

Dean’s orgasm seems to come out of nowhere, crashing over him as Castiel muffles his moan with another kiss. He strokes him through it until Dean is twitching and batting his hand away from over sensitivity. Dean revels in the afterglow for about 20 seconds until he realizes that Castiel is still hard in his hand and giving him a half-expectant look.

Dean drops down to his knees without warning and takes Castiel in his mouth. Castiel makes a surprised-choked noise, but quickly corrects, his hand falling onto the back of Dean’s head.

“Oo-oh Fuck,” Castiel grunts, “Oh my god, I’m going to…” Dean pulls back, hand moving over Castiel’s shaft as he spends his load over Dean. Come drips down Dean’s face, over his cheek and toward the corner of his mouth. He’s tempted to dart a tongue out to taste him, but a nervous concern for safe sex blocks the desire. Castiel stands over him, his chest rising and falling fast as he tries to catch his breath.

“Here,” he pants as he reaches into the toilet paper dispenser and tears off a strand, handing it to Dean. Dean thanks him as he cleans off his face and gets to his feet, dropping the tissue in the toilet. His meets Castiel eyes once more, then moves forward for a kiss.

It’s slower this time, less frantic and far sweeter than before. Dean takes his time, memorizing the taste of Cas’ mouth and the chapped feeling of his lips. Castiel pulls away first and reaches down to tuck himself back into his pants while Dean follows suit.

They exit the stall, less awkwardly than Dean would’ve expected, but still quite a bit awkward. Castiel washes his hands and lightly fixes his hair in the mirror.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he glances down at his phone, checking the time. “It’s 11:40. I probably need to get to my gate. My flight’s boarding soon.” Castiel looks up at Dean, his expression passive.

“Yeah, probably should,” he says, a smile tipping up at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Dean, for-” Dean holds up a hand to stop him

“No problem, Cas,” he says. He starts to gather his items and, in second of impulse, reaches out for Castiel, grasping him by the tie and pulling him in for one more kiss.

“See you around,” he says with a grin. He turns and strolls out of the bathroom without looking back.

The buzz of that last kiss doesn’t seem to fade from his lips until he is high in the air.

 

* * *

 

The metal sliders of the baggage carousel grind together as they move around the curve, slowly carrying the same brightly colored suitcases and dusty bags once again through the baggage claim area.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes tracking their movements as he waits for his own suitcase to emerge from the covered doorway. He doesn’t usually check a bag, too many hazards to have things lost or broken, but the week-long training at their headquarters in Cincinnati had not only required more of Dean’s well-pressed suits, but his presentation materials as well.

The trip had also required a layover, apparently, in Dallas. Dean supposes there are worse places to spend the night. Cincinnati, for one.

Dean flinches as the buzzer above him goes off, indicating a new flight and a new load of bags. He readies himself to spot and quickly grab his bag when it passes by. He’s not going to get caught up weaving through the crowd and chasing down his suitcase like some world’s worst police chase.

A crowd of his fellow passengers pools around the carousel but Dean, well-tread traveler that he is, knows better. He focuses his eyes on the doorway, watching for the swatch of bright red plaid  he keeps tied around the handle (one of his old shirts that got destroyed in a random wash cycle). The noise of the crowd around him morphs into a dull hum until Dean finally sees his case emerge onto the belt. He rocks on his heels a little, eyes glued to the case as it travels along the carousel. It turns the corner onto the flat stretch in front of Dean and he steps forward to catch it, but immediately collides with another body with an “oomph.”

“Oh sorry,” Dean mutters, stepping back.

“Dean?” Dean glances up at the sound of his name, noticing first a wrinkled beige coat, then tired blue eyes.

“Castiel, hey!” Dean says brightly. His eyes flick from the belt to Cas and he reaches out, snagging the top handle of his case. “Is one of these yours?”

“Yeah, the gray with the… bee tag,” Castiel points toward a suitcase close by. Dean can’t help smiling at the bee-shaped luggage tag. “It’s silly I know, but it was a gift and… Well, it makes it easier to find.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool. I get it,” he says, pointing down to the the red flannel scrap tied to his handle. Dean glances back up at Castiel, his smile a little wider than intended, as his eyes automatically focus on Castiel lips. The memory of their last meeting floods into his mind, and Dean shifts uncomfortably at his body’s reaction.  

“So, how’ve you been?” Castiel asks, gratefully breaking the tense moment. Dean takes his extended hand and shakes it gruffly.

“Good, same as always,” he replies. “Always a fire to put out, y’know.”

“I hear that,” Castiel agrees. He looks around the baggage area and frowns. “We should probably  make room for other people-”

“Oh, sure, sure.” Dean agrees, eyes darting to his feet as bitter disappointment starts to coat his gut.

“Do you have a minute?  We could catch up?” Castiel offers, and Dean thinks he catches the hopeful lift in Cas’ voice.

“Yeah.” Dean nods, shoulders relaxing. “Actually… Is this your final destination or do you have connecting flight to get to? I’m asking because I’m on a 12 hour layover and I was just going to crash. But if you-”

“I’m actually on a layover myself,” Castiel replies. “We could grab some dinner if you want?” Dean is practically buzzing, but he tries to school his expression to “cool flirtation.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

They end up at the bar located inside the Hyatt next to the airport, sharing an appetizer platter and trying a flight of craft beers. The conversation is nice, not something Dean usually gets on trips like this, and he finds himself laughing more often than not. Even when there are moments of silence, they’re comfortable, giving each man time to gather their thoughts and watch the basketball game playing on the screen above them.

“So when’s your flight?” Castiel asks, draining the rest of his stout. Dean suddenly recalls the warm flavor of Guinness on Castiel’s lips and has to ask the man to repeat the question.

“Uh, 7 a.m.” Dean answers.  “You?”

“Noon.” Castiel replies. “But I head home after this, so that’s always good.”

“Worried about your place?” Dean asks. Castiel shakes his head.

“No, no,” he says, fiddling with a matchbook with the bar’s logo drawn on the front.  “My brother house-sits for me when I travel, but… y’know, home is comfortable. Better than a hotel room.” Dean nods.

“Speaking of which,” Dean says, pulling out his phone. “I need to book someplace for the night.”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Your company doesn’t do it for you?”

“They used to, but I prefer booking my own hotels,” Dean says, tapping through the app on his phone. “That way I know no one is trying to cheap me out.”

“I have a room here,” Castiel says, pulling his next beer to his lips. “You’re welcome to join me.” There’s a low purr in Castiel’s voice that grabs Dean’s attention. He raises his head; Castiel’s eyes are dark and focused on Dean and the look in them makes his mouth go dry.  

“You know,’ Cas offers a diffident shrug. “If you want to save some money.” Dean knows damn well that is not Castiel’s intention with the offer, but the charade somehow makes it even hotter.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Dean says, his own voice surprisingly level. They finish their drinks and pay their bills. Dean gathers his briefcase and luggage, hanging back as Castiel stops by the front desk to check in and get his key. He follows Castiel to the elevator bay, licking his lips as he mentally inventories everything in his toiletry bag, trying to remember if he brought condoms and lube or not.

As soon as the elevator doors close, Dean feels Castiel’s hand slide down past the small of his back. He palms the meat of Dean’s ass and gives it enough of a squeeze to cause him to flinch a little. Dean turns, leaning in enough to kiss Castiel like he’s been dying to for months now.

Castiel tastes just as warm and wonderful as he did before. His tongue pushes into Dean’s mouth with an urgency that tells him he's been just as impatient to get to this moment as Dean has. He wraps his other arm around Dean, pulling him close, his grip on Dean's backside tightening.

The door to the elevator dings and they launch apart at the sound of voices behind the door. It opens to reveal an older couple who steps inside, chatting to each other and firmly ignoring Castiel and Dean. They stand against the wall passively, but Dean can’t help but smile as Cas’   hand retakes its place on his ass.

They reach the 10th floor, the couple exiting first and Castiel and Dean going after. Castiel leads Dean down the hallway toward their room, occasionally glancing back as if to make sure Dean is still coming. Dean doesn’t think wild horses could stop him. He flexes his hand over the handle of his case in anticipation.

Castiel stops in front of the room, sliding the key card into the slot and opening the door.

“After you,” he says, holding the door open and allowing Dean to enter first with his luggage. Dean pats along the wall until he finds the switch, bathing the room in warm, yellow light. It’s a nice hotel room, the kind of upscale most professionals expect. Dean slides his luggage to the side before settling down on the bed.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” Castiel says as he places his own suitcase next to Dean’s. He slips off his shoes and moves forward, stepping between the V of Dean’s legs and leaning down to capture Dean’s lips in a gentle kiss.

“I think I might do the same,” Dean replies, grinning against Cas’ lips. Cas nods and slides his sportcoat off his shoulders before moving to the bathroom. As soon as he hears the water running, Dean finds the remote and switches on the TV. He loosens his tie and sits back on the bed, casually palming his cock through his slacks and decompressing from a long day of travel.

He considers maybe joining Castiel in the shower when the water abruptly shuts off and a still-dripping Castiel emerges from the bathroom. He’s clad only in a white towel and Dean can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the toned, bare torso or the dip of his hip disappearing beneath the fabric.

“Shower’s free,” Castiel says, pulling Dean out of his ministrations. Dean nods and rises to his feet, reigning in the ache to touch Castiel. _Anticipation_ , he reminds himself, _You’ll get your chance._

Dean takes the fastest shower of his life, not even letting the water get warm again before he jumps in. He’s thankful for the cool spray, hoping that might help with his already aching erection.

He steps out of the bathroom a minute later, forgoing any of Cas’ modesty, using his towel to dry off his hair and neck instead. Castiel sits on the bed, clad only in boxer briefs and leaning forward with his palms on his knees. He looks up as soon as he notices Dean, offering a shy smile.

“So how do you want to do this?” he says as he stands, reaching out a hand and placing it on Dean’s hip. “Bottom, top, I don’t mind. I’m flexible.”

“Uh, same,” Dean stammers out.

“But…” Castiel draws out the word, tracing his index finger up and down the soft skin over Dean’s stomach. “... I know I would _really_ like to fuck you.” Dean swallows hard and nods; his mouth is so dry that words are impossible. Castiel takes another tentative step forward, cupping a hand along Dean’s jaw and pulling him in for a kiss.

Dean sighs against his lips, letting Cas lead and turn him, tongue probing in Dean’s mouth. His cock hangs hard and heavy between them and Dean pushes his hips forward in an effort to gain some contact. Castiel lets out a pleased hum and digs his fingers into Dean’s thigh. He takes another step forward, slotting their legs together. Dean stumbles backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he drops down onto the duvet. Cas’ hands move to his shoulders, pushing him backward and crawling over him, still hungrily devouring Dean’s mouth.

Dean groans as Cas’ teeth drag against his bottom lip and his hands move to Cas’ hips, rolling his briefs down. Castiel pulls back to give Dean an evil little grin before continuing his attention and kissing down over Dean’s neck and chest.

“Fuck.” Dean is surprised by the shakiness of his own voice when Castiel laves his tongue over a nipple. He rolls the nub lightly between his teeth and Dean lets out a hiss of pleasure. “Again. Do that again.” Castiel laughs hoarsely and moves to the other nipple, giving it a little more pressure.

Dean bucks up, grinding his cock against Cas’ stomach. Cas pushes a firm hand on his hip pushing him back down in a silent order. He continues to slink down Dean’s body, trailing kisses over the softness of Dean's belly and the knob of his hipbone.

Dean lets his head fall back and his eyes shut in relief at the first lick of Castiel's tongue up his shaft. He groans deep in his chest as Castiel runs spit-slick lips up and down his length. He combs his fingers through Castiel’s hair, surprised by the softness of it. Castiel wraps a hand around the base of Dean’s dick and takes the head between his lips.

“Oh my God.” Dean lets out a sigh, tightening his grip on the dark strands of Cas’ hair. “Your mouth… fucking amazing.” Castiel makes a happy noise, somewhere between a hum and a laugh, as he bobs his head on Dean's cock, increasing the suction of his mouth every time he comes up. He works his hand in time while his other hand gently strokes Dean’s balls, causing a shiver to run through him.

“Cas,” Dean moans. He can feel his orgasm threatening, and he tugs a little on Cas’ hair, pulling up his head until only the tip of Dean’s cock rests against his swollen, wet lips.

“Huh?” Castiel gives him a questioning look.

“You gotta slow down,” Dean says, a little out of breath. “Don't want to come yet.” Castiel laughs wryly as he crawls up over Dean’s body.

“Impatient,” he murmurs, his lips hovering over Dean's.

“Not impatient, just want to enjoy this.”

“You weren't enjoying my cock sucking skills?” Castiel raises an eyebrow and Dean can't help but chuckle.

“A little too much,” he admits. “Please, I want you.” Castiel's expression softens and he leans in for one more kiss before sitting back on his knees.

“Supplies,” he murmurs. “I think I saw some sort of intimacy kit in the mini bar. It usually has condoms and lube-”

“I got stuff.” Dean sits up and rolls off the bed, scrambling to his suitcase. He practically rips openly the zipper to get to his toiletry bag, letting out a whoop as he throws a strand of condoms and a bottle of lube on the bed next to Castiel’s thigh.

“You were a Boy Scout, weren't you?” Castiel asks, glancing from the condoms to Dean.

“Always prepared.” Dean flashes him a wink as he scoots back up the bed, leaning on his side to face Castiel. Cas smooths a hand from Dean’s shoulder to his hip, kissing him soundly.

“So tell me,” Castiel says, “how do you prefer to do this?” Dean looks away with a shy little grin as he picks up the bottle of lube and hands it to Castiel.

“I want you to touch me,” he mumbles, leaning up and brushing his lips over Castiel’s. Cas presses a hand on Dean's shoulder once more until he's flat on his back. He blankets his body across Dean's side, continuing to kiss him as his hands travel down between Dean’s legs.

Dean tries to focus on the taste of Castiel and the warmth of his skin as the first cool touch of a lubed finger circles around his entrance.

“Just breathe,” Castiel says, pushing lightly against the ring of muscle, willing Dean's body to relax. Dean lets out a small noise as the first digit breaches him, pressing his head back into the bed. Castiel continues to mumble encouraging words, moving his finger in and out of Dean and opening him up.

“Christ,” Dean gasps as Castiel inserts a second finger, the burn growing more intense, he fists his hands in the blanket, breathing hard against Cas’ mouth.

“So tight,” Castiel mutters, and it almost sounds like he's saying it to himself. The burn seems to ebb as Castiel continues to work Dean open.

“More, Cas,” he begs, his voice rougher than he's used to. “Please.”

“That's it, beg me for it,” Castiel growls as he inserts a third finger. Dean tenses for a moment but spurs himself to push past the pain. Castiel crooks a knuckle, brushing past the bundle of nerves in Dean. Pleasure zips through him like a lighting bolt and Dean arches his back as he makes an unholy noise.

“Again,” he pleads. Castiel works his fingers for a minute or so more until Dean is writhing and moaning, his erection thick and neglected against his stomach.

Dean whines as Castiel removes his fingers. He hears the crackle of the condom wrapper and feels the shift on the mattress as he moves between Dean’s thighs. Dean looks up at him through hooded eyes as Castiel guides his own throbbing cock to Dean’s hole.

“Fuck me, Cas,” Dean says, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “C’mon, do it.”

“Bossy,” Castiel mutters as he starts to push into Dean. He moves slowly, so slowly, barely an inch at a time, always drawing back a little before nudging for more. Dean whines in protest, trying to fuck himself deeper onto Castiel's dick, but he just holds Dean in place, shaking his head.

“No,” he says, “we go at my pace.” Dean makes another grumbling noise, but sinks into the bed, letting Cas go at his own glacial speed. When he finally bottoms out, Dean wants to cry in relief. Castiel rests his head against Dean’s shoulder, finding his bearings.

“Gimme a minute,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, Jesus. You a virgin or something?” Dean lets out a chuckle and bucks his hips, earning a tense groan from Castiel. He gives Dean’s flank a light smack as he starts to move.

“Yes.” Dean lets the word draw out as Cas fucks into him, his movements steady but hard. Dean pulls his legs back, giving Castiel more room to move. He wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders and pulls him down into a kiss.

“Fuck, right there, don’t stop.” Words seem to pour from Dean unbidden, every one of Castiel’s thrusts punching the air out of him. Castiel doesn’t say anything, just makes low, unintelligible growls as his hips pick up a steady rhythm. Dean reaches a hand between them to stroke his own cock, but Castiel bats it away.

“No,” he mutters, wrapping a hand around Dean’s shaft and stroking him in time with his hips. Dean pulls Castiel down for another kiss as he winds his legs around his waist. Castiel’s thumb swipes down the tip of his cock, spreading precome and making the tunnel of his palm slick.

“Cas,” Dean groans, fingers clenching at his shoulder. “Gonna come, oh God.” Castiel growls and his movements grow erratic. Dean tips over his orgasm with a long drawn out moan, shooting come over Castiel’s fist. Castiel stills above him a moment later as he comes, a groan deep in his throat, pressing his forehead against Dean’s collarbone.

They lay there, chests rising and falling against one another as Dean’s hand drags up and down the muscles of Cas’ back. Castiel finally takes the initiative, pushing back from Dean and stepping off the bed. As he moves to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Dean stands up. He grabs his abandoned undershirt to wipe off his stomach and pulls his boxers back on. There’s a toilet flush from the bathroom and Castiel emerges a second later, still naked. He picks his own abandoned boxer briefs off the floor and puts them back on.

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” he asks.

“I should probably get some sleep,” Dean says, scrubbing a hand down his face. The exhaustion of the day has finally hit him and sleep sounds amazing.

“What time's your flight again?” Castiel asks.

“7 am,” Dean replies. “You?”

“Noon,” he says. Wordlessly, Castiel moves to the bed, pulling back the duvet and slipping inside. Dean does the same, waiting for a protest from Castiel about sleeping together, but it never comes.

Instead, Castiel scoots toward the center of the bed, not touching Dean but still close enough that Dean can feel the heat radiating from his skin. There's a moment of tension, a question hanging in the air between them, until Dean reaches out a hand, his fingers brushing Castiel’s shoulder.

Dean makes a small noise in his throat and he pulls Castiel close, tucking the other man against him. Cas let's out a long exhale and pillows his head against Dean’s side. Soft tufts of hair brush across his nipple and Dean's cock give a valiant twitch before he shuts down the thought.

“Good night,” Castiel murmurs. Dean makes a soft grunt that sounds vaguely of “night” as he picks up his phone and sets his alarm. He reaches across the bed and sets his phone on the bedside table, careful not to move too much and risk jostling a comfortable Castiel.

Dean stares up at the dark ceiling, letting himself be lulled into a deep sleep by the hum of the air conditioning unit and the soft rhythm of Cas’ breathing.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s alarm goes off at 4 am, jerking him out of a deep sleep. He’s aware of the the siren blare across the bed and a warm body at his side and it takes him a second the register it as Castiel.

Cas makes a pitiful whine in complaint and mutters something that sounds like “turn that fucking thing off.” Dean moves to the side table, grabbing his phone and swiping off the alarm. He extracts himself from Castiel’s hold and swings his legs over the bed.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice is even lower than usual and the sound goes straight to Dean’s groin, making his morning wood even more uncomfortable.

“Hey Cas,” he says, as he gets to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I need to get going to my flight.”

“Uh-huh,” Castiel replies sleepily, head sinking back into the pillow. Dean grabs his open toiletry bag off the floor and retreats into the bathroom to get ready. He takes a fast shower, only bothering to wash the dried sweat from his skin and brushes his teeth. He blindly gropes through his suitcase for a fresh pair of underwear and socks, throwing them on under his clothes from yesterday.

 _Still doing the walk of shame_ , Dean thinks to himself with a grin. As soon as he’s all packed up, he moves his case to the door and shoulders his briefcase.

“Dean?” Dean turns at the sound of his name. Castiel pushes up onto his elbows, eyes narrowed in sleep. “Wait for a second.” He rolls off the bed and picks his pants up off the chair where he left them, pulling his wallet from a pocket. He rifles through it for a couple seconds before pulling a card out and handing it to Dean.

“Here,” Castiel says. “It has my cellphone number on it.” Dean looks at the card, “Castiel Novak” staring back at him in a clean serif type.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles.

“The next time you’re flying, text me.” Castiel sits back against the headboard, hands slung together between crossed legs. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and cross paths again.”

“Or vice verse,” Dean jokes, earning a low chuckle. He looks at Castiel with a soft smile, glad the man isn’t demanding his number in turn. Dean leans down, wrapping a hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and kissing him firmly on the mouth.

“I’ll see you around, Cas,” He gives a quick wink before turning and heading out the door.

The hotel is mostly empty as he walks through the lobby. He bypasses the crowded cafe, in favor of grabbing his traditional overpriced Starbucks once he gets to his gate. His body is still wonderfully sore from last night and  Dean can't seem to wipe the smile off his face because of it. He knows he looks out of place, beaming like an idiot amongst the other dour-looking early morning passengers.

He gets checked in and through security in record time, finding his gate with almost 90 minutes before boarding is scheduled to begin. Dean settles into a seat facing out onto the tarmac, and takes a tentative sip of his coffee.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Cas’ business card, running a thumb over the raised type. On a moment of impulse, Dean grabs his phone and types a quick message.

_This is Dean. Had fun last night. Can't wait for a repeat ;)_

There's only a second of delay before a reply arrives.

**_Same. Have a safe flight, Dean :D_ **

Dean smiles to himself and pockets his phone once more.

 

* * *

 

Coordinating schedules is easier said than done. It's not like Dean expects to run into Cas every time he lands in a new city, but…well, he kind of does. As much as he travels, it's rare to meet a person who not only holds his attention in bed but also in a conversation. Castiel is pretty easy on the eyes as well, which is a perk.

Dean doesn't want to appear too desperate though. Biding his time and only reaching out when he's at major airports or hubs. The messages start very polite ( _I'm passing through BMO tomorrow. You?)_ , but eventually grow more relaxed, drifting into topics like movies, hobbies and whether or not you really _need_ to turn off your phone while in the air ( _I can barely get two bars when I'm at the gate. Like my dumb little iPhone will affect all that high-tech equipment)._

He likes chatting with Castiel. He has a dry sense of humor that Dean finds enjoyable and a easy way of texting that never leaves Dean feeling awkward or like he's imposing.

Dean would've liked the guy even if he hadn't fucked Dean’s brains out.

 

* * *

 

 _Fuck Chicago. Fuck Snow. And absolutely Fuck O’Hare._ Dean shoots a text to Cas as he stares out of his hotel room window, the bright lights of the airport masked by the drifts of snow coming from the sky. He had a feeling he'd be grounded as soon as he saw the weather report this morning, but he'd held out hope maybe they could've beaten the storm on his flight to Salt Lake.

 **_I'm afraid Edward O’Hare has been dead for 74 years, Dean._ ** Castiel texts back. **_You might be a little late._ **

_You know what I mean._ Dean rolls his eyes at the phone, even though he's still smiling at Cas’ joke.

 **_Yeah I do. And if you keep talking that way about my hometown, we're going to have words._ ** Castiel texts back.

_Fine. I redact the statement about Chicago, but the ones about snow and ORD stand._

**_Agreed. ORD sucks._ ** Dean smiles at his phone; he scrolls to the top of the message thread and hit the “call” button. It rings once before Castiel picks up.

“Hello, Dean,” The low timbre of Castiel’s voice causes Dean’s smile to brighten.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answers. “I thought talking would be a whole lot easier than texting, and faster.”

“Agreed.” There’s a soft rustle of movement on the other end of the line and Dean wonders if Cas is in bed as well. “Sorry to hear about your delay.” Dean shrugs even though he knows Castiel can’t see him.

“Eh, not much I can do about it. Thanks, though. You’d think I’d be used to snow out in Denver, but no.” Dean lets out a soft sigh as he stretches out further down the bed. “So, you’re from Chicago, huh? Still live here?”

“Technically,” Castiel says with a laugh. “I’m traveling about a third of the month, but yeah, that’s home.” Dean lifts a curious brow.

“You… in town tonight?” Just the idea that Cas and him might currently be in the same area code has his cock giving a hopeful twitch.

“Not tonight,” Castiel sighs. “In Orlando, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately… right,” Dean snorts. “ _Oh no, you have to enjoy the beautiful, not-snowing, Florida weather. Poor Cas_.” Castiel lets a out husky laugh, the sound traveling straight to Dean’s groin.

“Hey, I'm not complaining. Anytime I can get away from the snow, I will,” he replies. “But I meant unfortunately because it means that you’re there and I’m not.” Dean bites at his lip coyly; words this sweet should not be making him this hard. Dean runs a hand over the front of his slacks, feeling the firm weight of his hardening cock.

“Aww, you miss me, Cas?”

“Miss that ass of yours.” The growl in his voice causes Dean’s breath to hitch. “Wish you were here with me right now.”

“Oh really?” Dean asks as he works open the zip on his pants, sliding his hands down into his boxers. “What would we be doing?” Castiel groans and Dean can picture him in his mind sliding a hand down and taking hold of his own cock.

“I think I’d start…” Castiel releases a long exhale, “by sucking you off. You don’t know how badly I want to taste you again.” Dean hums and lets his eyes slip closed.

“I’d like that,” He mumbles.

“I know you would,” Cas says. “I’d have you pushed up against the door, your cock so far down my throat I’d be gagging.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean hisses as he strokes down his shaft.

“Maybe I’d just lap at the slit for a little while, teasing you,” Cas continues. “Would you want to see that.”

“Hell yeah, I would,” Dean says, the image of Cas staring up at him from the floor, his mouth stretched around Dean’s dick causing a pulse of precome to drip from the tip.

“Are you touching yourself, Dean?”

“Y-yes,” Dean stutters out.

“Where are you?” Castiel asks.

“On the bed.”

“Still dressed?”

“Yeah.” Dean doesn’t know what Cas will ask for next, but he likes this line of questioning.

“I want you to take your pants off, Dean,” Castiel says, his voice a gentle order. Dean immediately shimmies out of his slacks and boxers, kicking them to the foot of the bed.

“Done.”

“Do you have any lube?” Dean sits up and scrambles for his case.

“Yeah, uh, give me a minute.” He opens his case and pulls out his toiletry bag, and the bottle of lube inside. “Got it.”

“I want you to lay back on the bed again,” Castiel says. “Get your hand nice and slick.”

“What about you?” Dean asks. “Are you-”

“I’m ready,” he says. “I’ve been ready. I want to hear you get yourself off.” Dean pauses, frowning.

“You just want to hear me?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you, too. Can you send me a pic?” There’s a teasing tone to Cas’ voice that Dean finds both arousing and dirty, and it makes him feel like he’s 19 again, in his parent’s basement, trying on Rhonda Hurley’s panties for her.

“Of what?” Dean doesn’t stammer the words, thank God, but there is a little tremor in his hand.

“You,” Cas replies. “Your body, you dick, whatever you like.” Dean swallows hard. He doesn’t usually send dick picks, you never know when they could come back to haunt you.

“You gotta send one to me as well.” There. Insurance.

“Deal.” Castiel says. Dean pulls the phone away from is ear and opens the camera app. He bites at his lips wondering what kind of photo Castiel might like best. After thinking about it, he hits the button for the front facing camera, aiming it above his head and taking his cock in his free hand, stroking it a couple times.

He shoots his best flirtatious look up at the camera, making sure the angle provides a good view of his cock as well. He hits the shutter and send the pic, fingers mentally crossed that Cas enjoys it. A second later a thought bubble appears on the text screen and an image pops up: A view of Castiel’s cock from below, thick and veined and surrounded by a thatch or well-trimmed, dark hair. Castiel is gazing at the camera, eyes hooded and looking positively indecent.

“Fucking A’, Cas,” Dean groans, squeezing at the base of his dick. “You are so fucking hot.”

“So are you.” Castiel’s voice is barely above a whisper. “God, I wish I were there. How do you get yourself off, Dean? Do it, describe it to me.” Dean swallows hard, a little unnerved and titillated at the command.

“I like… I like to play with my nipples,” Dean finally says, moving his hand off his cock and up his chest, pinching a nub until it begins to harden.

“Is that all?”

“To start with, yeah,” Dean admits, his voice coming a little shaky. “I like to tease a little while I stroke myself, just the sensation of…” he trails off, losing the words as he tugs at his nipple.

“Yeah, I can imagine that.” There’s another shift on the other end of the line and Dean can almost see Castiel stretched out on his own hotel bed. On a whim, Dean pulls the phone away from his ear, taking a pic of himself as he tugs at a reddened nipple. He shoots the picture to Cas.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Cas breathes out when he receives the photo. “What else, Dean? What do you do next?” Dean shuts his eyes and swallows hard.

“I love the feeling of fingers against my hole.”

“Pushing inside of you?”

“Not yet.” Dean shakes his head. “Just light pressure.” He moves his hand from his cock, circling two slippery fingers around his rim.

“Bet you would love for that to be my toungue.” Dean groans and pulls the phone back, hitting the speakerphone and setting it on the pillow beside his head. He moves his now-free hand from his chest to his cock.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Fucking love rimming.”

“I want you to imagine it’s my tongue licking into you, opening you up, tasting you.” Dean has to grasp the base of his dick to keep him from tipping over the edge then and there.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

“Can you slip a finger in Dean?” Cas asks. Dean gives an affirmative hum as he slides a digit into himself. “How’s it feel?”

“So fuckin’ good, Cas,” he groans.

“Keep stroking yourself,” Cas says, his order coming out a little breathless. Dean can imagine Castiel with his own cock in hand, thick and purple and dripping. “I want to hear you.”

“Love this,” Dean murmurs. He twists on the bed, adding a second lubed finger. He crooks it slightly, back arching as he finds the bundle of nerves inside of himself.

“Oh God… Fuck!” Dean moans. His hand works faster. From his phone, all he hears are breathy pants and mumbled curses. “Cas, Cas… Oh God…”

“Come for me,” Castiel growls. “Fuck your hand and come for me.” The wave of Dean’s orgasm crashes over him with a drawn out moan. He doesn’t hold back, letting himself be loud and explosive as spurts of come splatter his belly. Castiel lets out a shuddering gasp as he comes, making a noise that almost sounds like Dean’s name.

Dean lays there boneless for a long time, listening to the sound of Castiel’s breathing before wiping a hand off on his leg and picking up the phone and switching off the speakerphone.

“That was awesome,” he says with a grin.

“Yeah, it was.” Cas sounds tired and fucked out and Dean wishes he were there to pull him into his arms. “Thank you… for that.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I assure you,” Dean says with a chuckle. There’s a moment of quiet before Dean speaks up again. “So you’re from Chicago, huh?”

“Yeah, born and raised.”

“You still there?” Dean asks, swinging his legs over the bed and heading into the bathroom. “I mean, when you’re not traveling.”

“Yeah, it’s home.” Cas says. “Terrible weather aside.” Dean huffs a laugh as he wets a washcloth and cleans off his stomach.

“Y’know, uh… I pass through there a lot. My office is constantly booking me on American and ORD is a hub,” Dean says. “Next time I pass through, we should try to meet up.” He aims for  “casual,” but the dead moment of silence that greets him tells him he crossed a line.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Castiel says after a couple seconds, clearly apprehensive. “It’s hard to tell when I’ll be home, but that might be possible.”

“Great,” Dean says, inwardly kicking himself for even bringing it up. “I should probably let you get going. I need to find myself some dinner.”

“Yes, replenish those lost calories, Dean,” Castiel jokes. They bid each other goodbye with a promise to text soon. Dean pulls on a pair of flannel pants and grabs the room service menu, but Castiel’s hesitation has caused his appetite to completely vanish. Dean sets the menu aside and unmutes the TV.

“Shouldn’t have even said anything, idiot,” he mutters to himself.

 

* * *

 

“Fuck, Dean, don't stop,” Cas groans, his fingers clutching onto the bed spread. He arches his back and presses his chest further into the mattress, his ass pushed up a little further in an effort to meet each of Dean’s thrusts. Dean groans low in his throat and grips Cas’ hips. He flexes his knees deeper, trying to get a better angle as he fucks into Cas.

“Touch yourself,” Dean says, blanketing himself over Castiel’s back and hissing into his ear. “I want you to come.”

“So close.” Cas’ voice comes out muffled by the mattress pressed against his face. His eyes screw shut and he wriggles a hand between his body and the bed, getting a hand on his cock.

Dean smiles wickedly, smoothing a palm over Cas’ back and moving at an erratic pace. Cas’ arm shifts beneath him as he jerks himself off and it only takes a few seconds until an unholy moan rises out of him and he comes with a shudder.

The feeling of Cas clenching around Dean’s cock is all that it takes to have him tipping over the edge. He flops over Castiel’s back, every bone in his body seemingly turned to jelly. He breathes hard against the sweat-damp skin of Castiel’s back, the heady scent of hotel soap and musk.

“Worth the wait?” Castiel asks, his words still a little uneven. Dean grins as he presses a kiss onto his spine.

“Only took three months,” he jokes as he pushes back and goes to dispose of the condom. Dean moves to the bathroom, dampening a washcloth and bringing it back to the bed. Castiel is lying on his back, eyes barely cracked open. He thanks Dean as he takes the cloth from him, cleaning off his stomach and doing what he can for the sheets.

“Don't want to leave too much of a mess for the maid,” he explains. Dean pulls on his underwear and scoots to the head of the bed, picking up the breakfast menu off the nightstand.

“I think between last night and today, the maids will have their work cut out for them, thanks to us,” Dean says. He usually didn't do layovers, but when Castiel had texted and said he'd be flying out of Dulles the same weekend, Dean had sweet talked the business office into giving him a night stay (Well, it was true he'd never seen the Lincoln Memorial. He still hadn't, but that wasn't the point.)

Castiel switches on cable news as Dean flips through the menu. “Hey, do you think we could finish a pot of coffee between us?” Castiel turns his head with a sympathetic look as he shifts off the bed and pulls out a fresh pair of boxers.

“Unfortunately, I have a flight leaving in…” he cranes his neck to look at the bedside clock. “Less than two hours. No time for breakfast.” Dean frowns; he’d known they would only get a few hours together, but he would’ve at least liked to have breakfast in bed (and maybe a shower blow job). He sets the menu aside.

“Where are you heading?” he asks.

“Home,” Castiel says, pulling up his jeans.

“Chicago?”

“Yeah.” He grabs his shirt from yesterday off the floor, some band Dean has never heard of and he guesses Cas represents. “What about you?”

“Uh, Jacksonville,” Dean says. “At least I’m not heading to Florida when it’s hot as balls.”

“It should be pretty nice,” Castiel offers with a reassuring smile. He strides toward Dean, leaning down and planting a firm kiss on his lips. “Um... so Dean, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any idea when you’re flying through O’Hare next?” Castiel asks. He lifts his gaze, a hesitant look flashing in his eyes. Dean picks up his phone and glances through his calendar.

“Actually, I have a refresher conference this summer. I should be flying in on…” Dean picks his phone up and taps on his calendar. “The 28th of July. That might change, though, if they decide to add another training or they move up the conference in St. Paul.”

“I just ask because, um...” Castiel runs a hand through his hair, making his bed-head even more artfully disarrayed. “I know you mentioned that you pass through O’Hare all the time. I have some flexibility in my schedule. If you want to … like, extend your time there, take a few days in the city.” A smile spreads across Dean’s face as the realization of what Castiel is saying dawns on him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can’t-”

“No, I’d love to Cas.” Dean interjects, stepping off the bed and moving toward him. He places his hands on Castiel’s hips, drawing the other man closer. “That sounds like it would be a lot of fun.” He leans in for another kiss, this one slow and sensual, just the warm movement of lips.

“Just give me a heads up when you have exact dates,” Castiel says, pulling back from the kiss. “My business partner can usually cover for me if I give her a couple days notice.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says with a nod. He kisses Castiel once more, his head light with the anticipation of seeing Castiel for more than a night.

Dean moves around the room, gathering his things and getting dressed, but his mind seems focused on Castiel’s offer. Dean realizes that his feelings for Castiel run a lot deeper than initially thought. He knows that should scare him, but instead it just sends a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

 

* * *

 

Dean is eating breakfast in the hotel restaurant, finishing his second cup of coffee when his phone rings. He frowns and glances at the screen, tapping the “answer” button.

“Hey Benny, what’s going on, man?” At the office, Dean tries to keep his friendship with his supervisor under wraps, referring to him as “Mr. Lafitte” or maybe “Ben” in rare cases. With no one he knows in hearing distance, Dean feels comfortable letting the formality drop.

“Nothing good, Dean,” Benny sighs and Dean can picture him rubbing a hand over his perpetual 5 o’clock shadow. “You gotta minute.”

“What’s up?” Dean sets down his coffee cup.

“Garth’s wife went into labor last night,” Benny says. “12 weeks early.”

“Oh shit,” Dean mutters. “Is she ok? The baby-”

“She’ll be alright. He’s alive,” Benny supplies. “Tiny little thing. Going to be in the NICU for awhile.”

“Healthy?” Dean asks, concern bleeding into his voice.

“As healthy as he can be, I suppose.” Dean can almost hear Benny’s defeated shrug. “Garth’s a mess, though. He’s taking FMLA leave”

“I don’t blame him,” Dean says.

“But that’s why I’m calling,” Benny continues. “Garth was supposed to head to the Milwaukee Office tomorrow for a regional senior management training conference.”

“Ok,” Dean says hesitantly.

“I would call and cancel it but…” Benny trails off. “Look, Garth was supposed to lead this. I’m willing to cancel the whole thing but I know you did this last year-”

“Benny, I’m flying out to Jacksonville this morning-”

“Which I can reschedule no problem.” Benny says. “This conference requires a little more finagling.” There’s a harsh rush of air into the phone like Benny’s exhaling heavily through his nose. “If you don’t want to do this, I can cancel it, but if you’re up to heading out to Milwaukee for the week…” Benny trails off, his voice rising hopefully at the end. Dean gnaws on a fingernail as he considers this.

He was only supposed to be in Jacksonville for a couple days, versus a week. He’s not prepared to host a week of back-to-back sessions and getting his personal materials to him is going to be a pain in the ass in shipping….

On the other hand, Milwaukee is only about 90 miles from Chicago.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dean says.

“You are saving my ass, kid,” Benny replies. “I’m serious. I owe you a beer when you get back.”

“You owe me several,” Dean chuckles. They talk for a few minutes, Benny assuring Dean that he’ll personally get his tickets changed. Dean hangs up and signals the waiter for the check, pulling out his wallet and credit card.

After a moment of thought, he shoots a text to Benny.

_Make sure to get me a decent rental car this time._

 

* * *

 

The setting sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time Dean crosses the Wisconsin/Illinois border. He fiddles with the radio, flipping through static until he finally finds a station playing halfway decent music. He quickly glances at his GPS, noticing that he has almost another hour of driving before he reaches Chicago city limits. Dean hits the home button on his phone, telling Siri to “Call Castiel.” The line goes straight to voicemail.

“Shit, again?” Dean mutters. This is the third time he’s tried to call Cas and every time it's gone to voicemail. “Uh, hi Cas. I just wanted to give you a call. Turns out there was an emergency at my office and I'll be in your neck of the woods… Well, close to it. Milwaukee, actually, but I would love to maybe meet up for dinner and maybe you can give me the ten-cent tour of the city.” Dean tries to sound casual, but he's nearly vibrating in his seat with excitement and anxiety. A small voice in his head tells him he's being super clingy and weird, but Castiel _did_ say they should meet up next time he's in the area.

“Next time” is just a little sooner than Dean thought, is all.

When he's still about 10 miles outside of the city, Dean stops at a mini mart to grab a soda and to try to call Castiel one more time. As before, he's met with a robotic voice telling him to leave a message.

“Phone must be off,” Dean mumbles to himself. He leans against the side of the rental car and taps his phone on his chin thoughtfully, staring out over the horizon. It would be a shame to come all this way and not see Cas. It's not like he has much time to spare this next week; he needs to be back in Wisconsin before the end of the night.

Dean opens his browser and pulls up the Yellow Pages site. Yes, it's kind of creepy looking up this guy's address, but Dean passed by “kind of creepy” about 80 miles ago.

 _How_ _many_ _Castiel_ _Novaks_ _can_ _there_ _possibly_ _be?_ Dean thinks as he searches the man.

 

* * *

 

Turns out, there's just the one. Thank heaven for small miracles.

Dean follows the GPS directions off of the highway, winding through the narrow streets of a bustling neighborhood on the west side of the city, passing by brightly lit shops and restaurants. He slows as he approaches a townhouse, the voice of his GPS announces that he’s arrived at his destination. He peers over the dash, spotting a familiar dark head in the bay window near the front door.

Dean circles the block, finding a parking spot around the corner. He shuts off the car and tries texting Castiel.

 _Hey, What are you up to?_ Still no response. Dean walks in the direction of Castiel’s house, his face split into a smile much bigger than it should be. He knows there’s no logical reason for him to be this excited to see Castiel, but he is.

He nears the sidewalk leading up to the front door of the townhouse; Castiel is standing next to the large front window. He’s is laughing at something, a bottle of beer in hand. He looks so comfortable and at ease, and that warm feeling in Dean’s chest rises but then evaporates a moment later.

A woman steps into the window, looking up at Cas like he hung the moon. She loops an arm around his waist and he leans down to kiss her.

Dean’s face falls and his head spins as he tries to process what he’s seeing. Castiel’s head turns toward something and a small blonde girl hops into his arms. He picks her up with ease, tickling her and causing her to dissolve in a fit of giggles.

Dean feels like the ground has fallen away beneath him. He grabs onto the iron fence post surrounding the small yard. The truth hits him- Castiel has a family. He has a wife and… and a kid, maybe more. He’s been fucking around on them behind their backs for months with Dean and God knows who else.

A wave of nausea rolls over Dean and his legs move automatically, pulling him back in the direction of his vehicle. He swallows hard several times, not sure if it’s bile or a sob in his throat. Castiel has been lying to Dean since they met. He’s implied that he’s single, implied that what they were doing wasn’t hurting anyone. Does his family even know that he’s gay or… or bisexual? When he invited Dean to visit, was he going to tell them he was on another trip or was Castiel just waiting for them to go on a vacation by themselves and then bring Dean into his home.  

Dean reaches his rental car and hits his keyfob multiple times, the lights of blinking wildly. He collapses into the driver’s seat. He’s trying to remain calm, but his heart hammers in his chest and his breath seems to be coming too fast. Dean tears into the inside pocket of his coat, finding the forgotten Valium from months ago.

If there was ever a time he needed to calm the fuck down, now is it. He swallows it, chasing it with the rest of his soda. He leans his head against the steering wheel, trying to steady his breathing before getting back on the road.

He turns to look at the clock; 8:46 it reads. It’s late and he needs to prepare for work. He really wants to find the closest bar and curl up inside a whiskey bottle. Instead, he has to drive the hour and a half back up to Wisconsin.

Dean starts the car and reverses his GPS, pulling out of the space and heading back to the highway. The radio is playing some horrible early nineties pop band, but Dean cranks the volume anyway.

Anything to drown out the noise in his head.

 

* * *

 

Castiel pads down the stairs of his townhouse, barefoot and in a pair of soft jeans, hair still damp. The best part of being home is being able to use his own shower, the water pressure’s absolutely perfect compared to the infinite number of hotels he stays in.

As soon as he steps into the living room, A high pitched squeal pierces the air and there’s a flash of blonde hair barreling his way.

“Uncle Castiel!” Claire shouts, nearly bowling him over as she wraps her arms around his midsection. Castiel’s huffs out a laugh, patting her head and noticing how she seems to grow another half an inch every time he sees her.

“Hey, Claire,” He says, kneeling down to her level and giving her a squeeze. He pulls back and narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side. “Are you sure I’m your uncle, though? Maybe I’m Jimmy and…” He points at his twin brother, standing near the window with Amelia, and catches his eye. “That’s Castiel.”

“No,” Claire giggles. “You’re Castiel.”

“No, I’m not,” Castiel shakes his head dramatically, causing another round of giggles to bubble up in the six year old. “I’m Jimmy.”

“No,” Claire laughs even as she stamps her foot. “You’re Castiel, because Daddy parts his hair this way,” Claire makes a swooping gesture to the left over her head, “and you do it the other way.”

“Or at least he would if he ever bothered to brush his hair,” Jimmy jokes, mussing a hand through Cas’ hair. Castiel bats his hand away and rises to his feet.

“She hasn’t fallen for that trick since she was three, Castiel,” Amelia offers with an apologetic shrug.

“Damn... that was always my favorite one, too,” he mumbles, patting Claire’s head as she runs off  toward the TV again. He looks up at Jimmy and Amelia. “Thanks again guys, for house sitting.”

“Anytime,” Jimmy says. “Amelia wanted to take Claire to see the doll rooms at the Art Institute.”

“They’re miniatures,” Amelia corrects with a warm smirk, “Not doll rooms.” Jimmy gives a shrug and the doorbell rings.

“Oh, food’s here,” Amelia says. “You don’t mind, Castiel, do you? Claire was getting hungry. We bought enough for everyone.”

“Of course,” Castiel says. Amelia turns to get the door and Castiel retreats back into the kitchen. He passes his suitcase and carry-on in the hallway, his cell phone sitting on top of it. Castiel picks it up and frowns when he sees that it’s dead.

“You really need to keep that thing charged,” Jimmy says as he follows behind him. “What if there’s an emergency?”

“I do keep it charged,” Castiel protests, plugging the power cord into the port and setting it on the counter. “But using data and travel really drains the battery.” Jimmy hums, taking a sip from his beer as he hands Castiel one as well.  He considers Castiel for a moment, mouth pursed to the side.

“What?” Castiel says with a chuckle.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

“What, Jimmy?”

“Ah, You… seem in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood,” Castiel replies.

“More so than usual,” Jimmy says with a smirk. “Something’s up with you.”

“Nothing is up,” Castiel lies. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Dean all day and, apparently, it’s written all over his face. “I’m just glad to be home.” Jimmy rolls his eyes but holds his hands up diffidently.

“Fine don’t tell me, your beloved older brother.”

“We’re twins,” Castiel deadpans.

“I’m older by six minutes.” Jimmy flashes a cheeky grin and Cas rolls his eyes.

“Jimmy, Castiel, come eat,” Amelia calls from the dining room. Jimmy clinks his beer bottle against Castiel’s as he passes. Castiel turns to leave but stops when he sees that his phone has come to life, multiple messages and missed calls on the screen, almost all from Dean.

He opens the messages to read, smiling at them. He knows he shouldn’t be feeling this giddy over a man he hardly knows and barely sees, but something about Dean feels… different. It’s not some one-shot hook-up; it’s more… profound than that.

Castiel shakes his head at his own pretentiousness and types a message back to Dean.

**_Just got home. Chilling with family tonight. Miss you <3_ **

He smiles as he shoots the text off and sets the phone back down before heading into the dining room.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s stopped at a red light when his phone lights up with an incoming text message. Without thinking, he picks it up, that sick feeling rolling back over him as he reads the message.

“Fucker,” he mutters, tapping open his message app and deleting the entire text thread.

 

* * *

 

**_Saw these at CLT. Thought they might give you a laugh_ **

**_Going to be in Houston next week? What are your travel plans?_ **

**_I’m sitting in a hotel in Memphis, bored shitless. Want to entertain me? ;)_ **

**_Hey, haven’t heard from you in awhile. How are you doing?_ **

**_Dean, please call me. I’m getting worried._ **

**_“Hey, Dean, it’s Cas. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know if you’re safe or not. Did I do something? Please call me. Just let me know you’re alright… ok, bye… miss you.”_ **

Castiel hangs up his cell phone with a sigh and flops down onto his couch. He rubs at his temples, staring at the dark screen, mentally willing it to ring with some response from Dean, not that he should really expect one.

They parted ways in Washington over a month ago and since then Castiel hasn’t heard a word from him. At first he chalked it up to Dean being busy, but after two weeks without so much as a “hey”, Castiel started to worry that maybe something happened to Dean.

He’d done the creepy thing and googled Dean, making sure he was still with his company and he hadn’t been fired. He found his facebook page, as well; while not very active on it, all signs pointed to him at least being alive and healthy. There was no reason that Dean shouldn’t respond to Cas’ messages… unless he just didn’t want to.

The thought causes a pit to open up in Castiel’s gut. He wracks his brain, wondering what the hell he might’ve said or done to drive Dean away. Maybe Dean felt he was being too clingy or moving too fast in their… whatever the hell this is.

Castiel hadn’t thought it was a stretch to ask Dean to spend some time together next time he was in the city. He’d brought it up first after all. Did he regret asking Castiel in the first place?

Castiel jumps as his phone abruptly starts to ring in his hand. His heart races, hoping for the millionth time it might be Dean, but he calms down when he’s sees Jimmy’s name on the screen.

“What’s going on, Jimmy?” Castiel asks, trying to keep his voice light.

“Not a lot. Hey do you have plans tonight?”

“Why? Do you need a babysitter for Claire?” Castiel raises an eyebrow.

“No, no, Amelia and I are having some people over for dinner,” Jimmy answers. “It’s kind of spur of the moment. She wanted to know if you’d like to come.” Castiel cringes; he feels the exact opposite of social right now as this thing with Dean has left him in a funk for weeks.

“I don’t think so,” he says, letting his head fall against the back of his sofa and pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I think I might do a rare night in.”

“All you do is night ins,” Jimmy points out.

“As little as I’m here, can you blame me?”

“C’mon,” Jimmy pushes. “Amelia is inviting a friend from work. He’s single…”

“Definitely not, then.” Castiel gets to his feet and walks toward the kitchen. “I’m not in the mood for small talk and even less in the mood to be set up with a stranger... Who’d want to date someone who is barely present, anyway?”

“Castiel, what is going on?” Jimmy finally asks. “Three months ago you were begging us to find you single men, and now you’re like… I  don’t know, you’re acting like your dog died. Are… are you ok? Did something happen?” Castiel sighs heavily and scrubs a hand down his face. He’d thought he’d been doing such a good job at hiding his anxiety but apparently not a good enough job to fool Jimmy.

“I… I don’t know,” he finally says. “It’s complicated.”

“How complicated?” Castiel hesitates in answering. He and Jimmy have few secrets between them but this was something that was wholly his alone and he wasn’t eager to part with that.

He pours it all out, save for the raunchier details, telling Jimmy about Dean and their spontaneous run ins and bonding over texts and calling. Jimmy doesn’t interrupt, just listens quietly, letting Castiel vent his frustrations.

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel admits, feeling somewhat better for having said something. “I…”

“You love this guy,” Jimmy blurts it out so plainly it takes a second for Castiel to process it.

“I… what? No!” Castiel protests, shifting his phone to the other ear. “We hardly know each other.”

“You’ve been talking for months,” Jimmy points out. “And you were texting every day, and calling… Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a boyfriend?”

“I… I don’t… didn’t… Jimmy, you’re twisting my words.”

“You do love him, though, don’t you?” Castiel blinks vacantly, letting the question sink in.

“Yeah, I think I might,” he mumbles. “But he’s fucking disappeared and I have no way to contact him now. He’s not taking my calls or answering my texts-”

“But you said he flies through O’Hare all the time?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m not going to stalk the airport, just praying for the next time he flies-” Castiel stops suddenly. “Oh my God…”

“What? What, Castiel?” Castiel pulls back his phone and taps open his calendar to the current week.

“He’s flying in on Thursday,” Castiel says, grinning at the green highlighted event on his phone. “The 28th.” His grin pulls wide and the words come out a little breathless.

“Well, that’s great then,” Jimmy says. “Go to the airport, find him and-”

“I can’t just… just go meet him,” Castiel interrupts incredulously.

“Why not?”

“That’s insane,” he shakes his head. “He’ll think I’m some kind of obsessed, clingy idiot… Trying to find him at the airport when I don’t even know-” Jimmy cuts him off gently.

“Look, Cas, if he gets mad at you, what’s he going to do? Stop speaking to you?” Castiel’s mouth turns into a hard line. “I’m just saying, it can’t get much worse.”

“He could have me arrested,” Castiel says. Jimmy sighs and Castiel can practically hear his eye roll as well.

“For what? Wanting to have a conversation?” Jimmy snorts. “I’m pretty sure the CPD would laugh him out of the precinct.” Castiel bites at the inside of his cheek, considering Jimmy’s words.

“And really,” Jimmy continues, “do it for your own peace of mind. If he doesn’t want to see you again, at least you’ll have closure.” Castiel nods slowly.

“Closure,” he repeats. “Yeah, closure. You’re right. I need closure.”

“Damn straight you do,” Jimmy adds. “Now, dinner tonight-”

“I’ll come,” Castiel answer, exiting the kitchen and heading up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Fantastic! I’ll tell Amelia that-”

“On one condition,” Castiel cuts him off. There’s a moment’s pause.

“What’s that?” Jimmy asks. Castiel exhales a heavy breath.

“Do you think you can give me a ride to the airport on Thursday?”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Castiel sits in the back of Jimmy’s Corolla next to Claire, Jimmy and Amelia in the front. He stares out the window, watching the familiar gray scenery that seems standard  to all airports.

“When’s he supposed to be flying in?” Amelia asks, glancing back from the passenger seat. Castiel hadn’t expected her and Claire to come along, but Jimmy just shrugged with the excuse of it being summer and Claire might enjoy it. From the wide-eyed expression on her face, glued to the window and watching the passing scenery of the highway, it’s clear that she does.

“I don’t actually know,” Castiel says, quickly adding. “But I know he prefers morning flights and he’s coming in from Denver.”

“There must be a lot of flights flying in from Denver,” Amelia says.

“Yeah, but American only has two before noon,” Castiel replies. “He said he mostly flies American when he comes through O’Hare.” Amelia looks back at him, smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze.

“I’m sure you’ll find him Castiel,” she says. Cas appreciates the platitude. Jimmy takes the exit toward the airport.

“You can just drop me off at arrivals,” Castiel says. “Go grab a snack. I’m not sure how long this will take.”

“Oh, we can park and come in with you.’ Jimmy says. Castiel doesn’t really want his brother to witness his humiliation, but he doesn’t have the energy to think of a good excuse for them not to come in either.

Jimmy turns into one of the parking garages. Castiel fishes out a few bills to pay for parking, but Jimmy waves him away, taking the ticket from the machine and pulling further inside. Castiel is bouncing in his seat as much as Claire, both excited and anxious about the possibility of seeing and maybe confronting Dean.

“When did the flight land?” Jimmy asks, meeting Castiel’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“About 20 minutes ago,” Castiel says anxiously, glancing at the airline app on his phone. “Passengers should already be at baggage.”

“You go ahead,”Jimmy says as they pull into a spot. “We’ll meet you down there.” Castiel flashes him a grateful smile as he unbuckles his seatbelt, barely allowing the car to stop before opening the door.

“I’ll call or text if I see Dean or not,” Castiel calls out and he runs toward the elevator, flashing his brother and sister in law a hopeful look.

The baggage claim area is swarming with people, even more so than usual Castiel notices. He slowly makes his way through the sea of travelers and suitcases toward the sign reading “American Airlines.” A buzzer goes off and the light above one of the belts flashes red, indicating a new flight.  A mass of people swarms around the American area, blocking Castiel’s path even more.

“Shit,” he mutters. He bounces on the balls of his feet a few times, hoping to see over the group. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots an empty set of benches between the baggage claims and the rental car booths. Castiel maneuvers his way to them, stepping up on one of the seats to look over the crowd.

“Sir!” A security guard hurries toward him, waving her arm in his direction. “Sir, you need to get down. You can’t be up there.”

“Just one minute,” Castiel says, scanning the crowd, “I just need…”

“You can’t be up there,” The security guard repeats.

“Just give me a minute,” Castiel blurts out frantically. “I need to find-” Castiel stops when he sees Dean’s head appear and start moving away from the claim area, maneuvering through the crowd of people. “Shit!... Dean! Hey, Dean!” Castiel shouts above the noise of the space, practically leaping off the chair and almost taking out about six people. Dean stops and turns at his name. His eyes go wide for a split second, then his expression turns cold; he turns back, feet moving fast toward the exit.

“Dean, Stop!” Castiel yells, weaving between people until he’s close enough to grab Dean’s arm. “Can you please stop and-”

“Leave me alone, Cas.” Dean jerks his arm out of his grasp and continues moving. Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, can you stop?”

“Whatever excuse you have, fucking save it,” Dean hisses, turning on his heels and narrowing his eyes.

“Excuse? What excuse?” Cas shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks and-”

“Oh, well maybe there’s a reason for that.” Sarcasm drips in Dean’s voice. “I don’t care what bullshit reason you come up with, I don’t mess around with liars or cheaters.” He hisses the last word through his teeth. Castiel blinks several times, his shoulders straightening.

“Cheater? What are you talking about?” Castiel says. “Dean, I haven’t… I mean, I didn't realize we were exclusive, but… I mean, it’s not like I’ve been with anyone else since we-”

“Except your wife!” Dean snaps, the anger and pain in his voice causing Castiel to take a step back. “You’re fucking married! To a woman! And I can be pretty sure she has no idea what you do on your ‘business trips.’” Castiel glances around anxiously, noticing several heads turning in the direction of the shouting.

“Wait? Wife? What are you-?”

“And a fucking kid, too! What the fuck are you doing, Cas?” Dean continues. He’s dropped the grip on his bags and is gesturing wildly. “Is that why you travel so much? So you can fuck men on the road and pretend to be some straight and narrow family man when you’re at home?”

“Dean, I…”

“And if you try to fucking lie to me I’ll…” Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “I saw you with my own eyes. I _saw_ you with them. You really are a piece of work, Cas.” Dean looks hurt and betrayed, but Castiel can only blink in confusion.

“Saw me?”

“I came to your house!” Dean blurts out and it's clear from the way his eyes go ridiculously wide that he hadn't intended to say that. “I… had some time in the city and… stopped by and…” He trails off, looking at his his feet in embarrassment.

Castiel blinks again. How the hell did Dean see him with some non-existent family? He rarely has anyone at his house except…”

“Oh my God,” Castiel mumbles under his breath as realization dawns on him. He wants to laugh but he knows now is not the time. “Dean, it’s really not what you think.” He reaches for Dean again, but he snaps backward, almost running into an elderly couple walking toward one of the rental car counters.

“Don’t,” he says, glaring at him.

“Dean, really.” Castiel takes a step toward him as Dean steps back. “This is just a huge misunderstanding. You see I have-”

“Bullshit! There's no misunderstanding,” Dean’s voice starts to rise. “I don't care if you and her have ‘ _an understanding-’_ ”

“Uncle Castiel!” Dean trails off as Claire runs zigzag through the crowd toward them, Jimmy and Amelia following not far behind.

“Claire, Sweetie, mom and I said to stay with us. You can't go running away in a crowded place like this,” Jimmy scolds gently, a little out of breath. “It's not safe.” Dean’s head jerks between Castiel and Jimmy, back and forth, the tension in his shoulders dropping like someone cut a string in them.

“Wait, what?” he mumbles.

“Dean,” Castiel goes slowly. “I'd like to introduce you to my niece, Claire, my sister-in-law Amelia and…” he pulls Jimmy by the sleeve so that they are both facing Dean. “My _twin_ brother, Jimmy.” Dean’s brow furrows for a moment and his mouth opens and shuts a couple times.

“You have a twin?”

“Identical twin,” Cas adds.

Dean’s mouth twists into a dramatic frown. “You never said anything about having a fucking twin!” he barks. Amelia looks alarmed and places her hands over Claire’s ears.

“I mentioned my brother,” Castiel argues.

“Yeah, but you never said you were a twin,” Dean counters.

“You never told him we were twins, Castiel?” Jimmy asks, a little hurt. Castiel clenches his jaw in frustration. “That’s like one of the first things I tell people.”

“It didn’t come up,” he says. “We were occupied with... other things.” He turns back to Dean. “Dean, I can absolutely swear to you I’m not married. Hell, I’ve never even been with a woman. Are you… Are you ok?”

“Mm-Hmm,” Dean hums through tight lips, but his assurance is betrayed by the panicked look in his eyes. Dean’s shoulders shake and his chest rises and falls too quickly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m such a fucking idiot…. How the fuck could I…?” He reaches for his briefcase, digging through it and pulling out an orange prescription bottle. Dean struggles with the lid, like he’s trying to tear off rather than open it.

“Hey, hey,” Castiel moves slowly, setting his hands over Dean’s. “I need you to breath, Ok?” Dean nods, even as he doesn’t follow the instruction. Castiel touches the side of his face lightly, directing his eyeline to his own. “Dean, do the relaxation exercise, ok? Deep breath in.” Castiel breathes deep; Dean follows. “Tense the muscles in your arms, then your legs, chest, hands.” Cas slips his fingers into Dean’s hold as he squeezes. “Now exhale and let go of the tension, release everything.” Dean relaxes his body like a rubber band being snapped free, air rushing from him in a gust.

They repeat the action a few times, earning several strange looks from passersby, but Castiel couldn’t care less. With each pass, Dean’s breathing slows and the anxiety in his gaze fades a little more.

“Better?” Castiel asks after a minute.

“Yeah,” Dean says with a nod. “Thank you.” Castiel offers a warm smile before asking a question he’s not sure he wants the answer to.

“Did you come to my house?” Dean gives a morose little nod.

“Yeah… I swear I’m not a stalker or some creeper,’ He holds up his hands defensively. “After you flew out of DC, I had a work emergency I had to take care of in Milwaukee and I figured, hey, Chicago’s not that far and… Well, Castiel is in Chicago.” Castiel can’t help but be a little touched by the gesture.

“I wasn’t trying to surprise you or spring a visit.” Dean continues, “I texted, several times. I called, but it kept going straight to voicemail. I think your phone might have been off.”

“I swear, Cas, you never charge your phone,” Jimmy gripes.

“Jimmy...” Castiel groans, not needing his brother’s commentary. Dean meets Castiel’s gaze, still looking a little sad.

“How’d you figure out I was here?”

“Guess work,” Castiel admits. “You said you were flying in today.” Castiel looks down and scratches at the back of his head. “I also remember you saying that your company puts you on American a lot, especially when you’re flying through O’Hare... and that you liked morning flights… I’m kind of a creeper too, I guess.” Dean huffs out a relieved laugh, squeezing Cas’ fingers.

“I was worried about you,” Castiel admits.

“You were?” Dean’s brow pulls together.

“Of course I was!” Castiel replies. “We hadn’t spoken in weeks. You cut me off without a word, I didn’t know what to think.” Castiel takes a deep breath. “Dean, can I be honest with you, I-” He’s cut off with a kiss, Dean’s mouth warm and welcoming against his. Castiel hums, his hands tangling in the fabric of Dean’s suit jacket and pulling him closer. He doesn’t care about the curious looks or even his brother and family watching; all that matters is the taste and feeling of Dean in his arms. Dean pulls back first, resting his forehead against Castiel’s, their noses almost brushing.

“Thank you for… for coming here,” he says. Castiel chuckles and shakes his head.

“I had to,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t just give up on someone when I’m… I’m falling in love with them.”

“Love?” Dean asks, raising his eyes

“Yeah… yeah, love,” Castiel says with a nod. He looks down to see Dean’s hands intertwining with his own.

“Well, Cas… the feeling is mutual,” Dean says with a flirtatious grin, one that Castiel desperately wants to kiss off his face for the rest of the day. Instead, Jimmy clears his throat awkwardly and Castiel and Dean step apart. Dean offers him and a beaming Amelia a friendly smile.

“Dean Winchester,” he says, shaking their hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Jimmy says. “Heard a lot about you… Only recently, too.” He gives Castiel a pointed look and Cas rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I suck. I get it. We should probably move out of this area.” Cas says turning his attention back to Dean. “Um, Dean do you have a rental car reservation or-”

“I usually grab a cab or take the L into the city,” Dean says.

“Oh we can give you a ride,” Amelia pipes up. “It’ll be a tight fit.”

“I don’t mind. Thank you.”

“You know,” Castiel says. “If you want to save money on a hotel you can always… um, stay at my place. There’s an L stop like a block and a half away.”

“Real subtle, Castiel,” Jimmy mutters.

“Shut it, Jimmy,” Castiel says, not looking away from Dean.

“Yeah, I’d… really like that, Cas,” he says, squeezing Cas’ hand.

“Shall we?” Amelia says. Castiel and Dean both nod as they follow behind the little family, hand in hand, out of the terminal.


End file.
